


Gossamer

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: Brief flashes, snapshots, of their lives over the years.Written for #Sheith69min, with the prompt 'Polaroids' – one paragraph per season.





	Gossamer

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this as an established relationship, but assume that they start showing interest in each other at the beginning of season 1 and it develops from there (quickly).

It’s a few weeks into her new position as a Paladin of Voltron when Pidge discovers the Polaroid camera in her backpack. There’s enough film in her belongings for a few dozen shots, so she teaches Allura and Coran how to use it before leaving it up on the main deck for anyone who wishes to take a picture or two of their journey.

 

 

 

  
**i.**

There’s a brief moment of respite after the battle with Sendak – Lance is busy recuperating, Allura is busy giving the Castle of Lions a thorough checkup, and Hunk is probably down in the kitchens trying to whip up an edible recipe.

Keith’s got Shiro’s head on his lap, the latter drifting in and out of sleep as Keith runs soothing fingers through his hair. His body’s sore and aching, but he can barely hear the cries of his tired muscles and rattled bones when he has Keith all around him.

Across from them sits Pidge. She’s not an artistic person – she values truth, facts, objective data –, but when she takes a few minutes to really look at the two of them, she thinks she finally understands why people write poetry, sing love songs, and splash colours across canvases. Suddenly, Pidge remembers what Keith was like years ago before Shiro even left for Kerberos. The boy kept the world at arm’s length, kept the shutters of his windows closed against everything but Shiro. Even back then, Shiro was his sun, peach-gold rays managing to slither through those stubborn shutters and flood up his heart.

When Shiro turns around and looks up at Keith with heavy lids and a small smile playing along his lips, Pidge reaches for the Polaroid resting at the end of the couch and takes a picture. They don’t startle at the flash; instead, Keith blushes at Shiro’s laugh and their fingers find each other’s.

She sticks the photo up on the Castle’s control dashboard.

**ii.**

Everyone is getting ready to leave on their respective missions, but they’ve managed to stop the clock for a few beats of the heart. It’s hard to keep his smile hidden, Keith muses, pressing the curve of his lips against the smooth surface of Shiro’s armour. Being in Shiro’s arms feels just like basking in the summertime sun, mind a little foggy with heat-haze and skin warm with the kisses of the sun.

“Be careful. Come home safe.”

Shiro’s voice has always been a dream. A dream of ripe apples waiting to be picked, of muscles rippling the way river water flows, of the softness of well-worn tee shirts. It’s the background music to Keith’s heart, swollen and full of life.

“You too.”

They hear the click of the camera instead of seeing the flash. Keith sighs into Shiro’s neck as they part, and when he turns to look at Hunk, he sees a Polaroid fluttering in his friend’s grip.

“Why don’t you stick that with all the other ones,” Shiro suggests cheerfully. Keith steps on his toes.

**iii.**

He hates arguing. With anyone, although that might seem a little odd if one considers his temperament. As such, saying that this is a nightmare would be an understatement. They had argued in front of all of their friends and god, it wasn’t pretty. His heart has been jumping against the skin of his throat, rapid-fire, all throughout their mission and even after he’s back safe in the Castle.

A solid weight lands on his shoulder and Keith instantly recognises it as Shiro’s hand.

“Hey.” The man’s scent floods his nostrils, freshly baked apple pie and petrichor. “I’m sorry I had to step back in there.”

“I thought I had it under control,” Keith blurts. He sounds miserable. “I’m not good at this.”

“You are, Keith.” Shiro steps around and reaches up to cradle Keith’s face between his hands. “If it wasn’t for you, Lotor would’ve gotten away with the teludav.” The swipe of Shiro’s thumb across his cheekbone is mesmerising, and Keith feels stress start to bleed out from between his scapulas.

“You’re a brilliant leader, Keith.” Shiro’s face softens into a sweet smile, those constantly kiss-pink lips tugging on Keith’s focus. “The Black Lion has chosen you. I’m proud of you, Keith.”

Allura can’t help it – she snaps a Polaroid. She offers it to them, a little abashed, and Keith plucks it out of her fingers with a tentative smile. It’s about time Black’s cockpit gets some decorations.

**iv.**

It’s tense inside the Castle, the air crackling with electricity that has nowhere to run. Everyone is on edge, some unsure of how to proceed and some stubborn in their ways. Keith’s presence is a trigger to a bomb, and Shiro really doesn’t want it to go off.

“Keith, if this is what you feel is right, then we won't try to stop you. Just know that we're here for you whenever you need us.” The words hurt when they leave his throat, adding to the already blooming plum-coloured bruise over his heart, but he knows that this is what Keith needs.

There are unshed tears in Keith’s eyes when their gazes meet. “I know you are, and I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

It’s not forever, he reminds himself as he gathers Keith into his arms. They’re bound together in mysterious ways that Shiro treasures as much as the breaths he takes, and it’s in the secret kisses they trade in the hallways pressed up against walls. But it still hurts, like mangled wings trying to break out of the spaces on either side of his spine.

When the others flood in and around them, Shiro buries his nose into Keith’s ever-messy hair and inhales. He doesn't see the flash or hear the shutter, and it’s not until much later that Coran passes him a Polaroid.

Shiro stares down at the picture of him and Keith tangled in each other’s arms. He’ll stick that up in his bedroom, right next to his pillow. Hopefully, it will tide him over until the next time they meet.

**v.**

Life without Keith…

Hurts like open wounds, the hollowness of old bones, the loneliness of a caged beast.

There are about a dozen Polaroids scattered around the Castle. Of them together, of Keith with the others, of memories once new. So Shiro looks at those and burns them all to memory until even going crazy wouldn’t rid him of them.

**vi.**

The lack of an arm is oddly convenient. Shiro fits perfectly into his side, warm and alive and everything he’s ever needed. His pale hair is lanky from days of not being washed, but the strands are still soft, running easily through the gaps between Keith’s fingers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Keith still can’t stop replaying the exact moment when he thought Shiro was going to leave him _again_ , leave him with the taste of ash in his mouth and lungs.

But Shiro is _here_ , dilated pupils gazing up at him in adoration tinged with guilt.

“You found me.”

God, the pure wonderment in his voice hurts in the loveliest way, like how teeth clash when two people in love kiss the breath out of each other.

“Always,” he replies, not ashamed of how his voice cracks, of how his eyes water.

Ever since his father’s death, Keith has taken to constantly reminding himself that life is brief and fleeting. He wakes up every day wondering if the light at the end of the tunnel will dim, if voices will turn into white noise. That almost happened today, at his own hands, and Keith was fully prepared to set himself on fire and drop straight into Hell’s depths if Shiro had died.

“You know,” Shiro continues, nuzzling deeper into the crook of Keith’s neck, “that was the eighteenth time you said those three words.”

Keith frowns. That’s not possible. They’ve been together for years, there’s no way he has only said it eighteen times – is there?

“But does it count? That technically wasn’t me.” He knows Shiro is kidding, can tell by the lilt of his voice, but that question sends shards of ice shooting through his veins.

“It counts,” he says firmly. “I said it to you, so it counts. And Shiro?”

He loves those silver eyes, almost pewter in the light.

“I love you.” Nineteen and counting.

This time, it’s Krolia who takes the Polaroid. Keith wonders where and when she learned how to use one.

**vii.**

“You okay?”

Tracking Shiro down wasn’t easy, but Keith managed with the help of the mice. The man is seated cross-legged in front of the memorial wall, staring up at the plaques as he fiddles with a flower in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Keith can read Shiro’s emotions like they’re scribbled across the back of his hand. As he settles down next to Shiro, he reaches out and curls a hand around Shiro’s neck, thumbing at the skin beneath his ear.

Instinctively, they press closer to each other. Following the line of Shiro’s sight, Keith’s eyes hone in on Adam’s name and he looks back just in time to see the last petal on the flower flutter down to the floor.

“I… have regrets,” Shiro begins, head hanging low. “Not saying goodbye before I left for Kerberos, not being willing to understand why he didn’t want me to leave. I wish I had the chance to tell him that I truly did treasure our time together.”

With a sigh, Shiro gets to his feet and steps up to the wall. He runs a few fingertips along the grooves of Adam’s name.

“At least my relationship with him taught me something. Taught me to value the time I have with the people I love.”

Keith smiles to himself and lifts the camera up to his eyes.

“Here,” he says, holding out the Polaroid. “Something to remember him by.”

 

 

 

  
Tracking down extra film when they returned back to Earth wasn’t an easy task, but Pidge thinks it’s incredibly worth it. They’ve amassed a small collection of Polaroids by now, and the pictures can be found _everywhere_. Stuck in the inside of the Lions’ cockpits, the inside of Atlas’, down the hallways of the Garrison and in their bedrooms. Kosmo is in charge of carrying the camera now, stowed away in his little backpack, and he will always appear in a flash of white whenever a Polaroid needs to be taken. 


End file.
